Hetalian Head-canons
by Missingwings
Summary: There any many Hetalia fans, and many have their own personal head canons about the series. These happen to be mine. Many different characters, and thoughts. (Dark, 2p, fluffy, shipping, pirates, mafia, and many others.) Just something that a few fans might like.
1. Chapter 1

**So, I decided to create this series after I found another fanfic with a similar idea. It was called 'Silly Little Head-canons' QuickSilverFox3. So I made this, about both silly and serious, fluffy and sad, my headcanons about Hetalia.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing in Hetalia but my head-canons.**

**Headcanon 1: Germany is Holy Rome**

**. . . . .**

Italy groaned as he stared at his messy attic, which was full of history and dust. "Ve~! This is going to take forever! I'll never get all of this done… But I have to try!"

Meanwhile…

Germany growled as he jogged toward Italy's house. "What is he doing, skipping training again?"

As he opened the other nation's door and walking into the kitchen, he heard a crash from upstairs. Irritation was replaced by concern. He hurried upstairs, taking two at a time. As he reached the top, he saw a stair-ladder lowered down in the middle of the hallway.

Raising an eyebrow, he walked over to it and climbed up.

"Italy?" he called as he poked his head above the attic floor.

"Ve~ Germany! Help! I'm stuck!" A hand was waving frantically from underneath a pile of boxes.

Germany sighed, irritation returning. "Alright, hold still."

After helping Italy out and getting the brunette off of him, he glanced around with curiosity. "What were you doing?"

"I'm trying to clean my attic! But the boxes fell on me… It's going to take forever and ever!"

_Well, at least he's doing something productive._ Germany mused. "Would you like some help?"

Italy perked up. "Really?! You'll help me?"

"If you want."

"Yay! Germany's helping me clean!"

**. . .**

"This is from when I was still a servant at Mr. Austria's house!"

"A… dress?"

"Yep! Miss Hungary said that everyone thought I was a girl! Isn't that silly?"

"Er…"

"And here are some of my paintings!" Italy held out the canvas proudly.

Germany examined them with interest. "These are very good."

"Ve~ You think so?" Italy beamed at him.

"Yes, I do."

"Heheheh. Yay! Here's Mr. Austria playing his piano. Oh, and Miss Hungary is tending the garden!"

"Wait, is that Prussia?" Germany stared at it, eyebrows furrowed.

"Hm? Oh, Si! He used to come to visit! Well, actually he came to annoy Mr. Austria and Miss Hungary, but he came to visit me and… Holy… Rome…" Italy trailed off.

Germany glanced at him in confusion at his sudden quietness, and was startled by the expression on his face. "Italia…?"

He jumped as though startled. "O-Oh. Sorry! I was just thinking."

The blond tilted his head in confusion. "About what?"

The smaller nation hesitated for a moment. "Holy Rome…" he said softly.

"Holy Rome?"

The Italian nodded. "Si… Holy Roman Empire. He was a close friend… He ruled over Mr. Austria, Miss Hungary, and I at one point. He was based where most of your land is now. He ruled over a lot of smaller countries at one point too. But in the end… he lost it all. He died on August sixth 1806."

"Were you close?" Germany frowned at his tone.

"Well… yes. Right before he left, he told me he loved me. I loved him too… but he never came home." Tears were welling up in Italy's eyes.

"Italia… I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry." Germany began silently panicking.

The brunette shook his head. "N-No, it's okay. Here, I have a painting of him."

Italy pulled out a canvas painting of a small blond boy, a large black hat on his head and a black cloak around his body. But the boy's most prominent feature was his eyes. They were a clear, sapphire blue, a certain strict coldness in them, but also a certain warm kindness as well.

He felt a chill run down his spine as he looked at those eyes, the same eyes he saw when he looked in the mirror.

He tore his gaze away from the painting and looked at Italy. What he saw made his breath catch.

Italy's eyes were open, and those amber eyes met his blue ones and held there. He began to feel slightly dizzy as a headache formed, and he lost his balance. He felt arms catch him and a concerned voice sounded above his head.

"Germany?! Germany, are you okay?!"

"I–I'm fine. I'm okay Italy."

"Are you sure? Do I need to get anything?"

He shook his head, cringing at the slight pain. "I'm okay, Italy."

He forced his eyes open and looked up at his fellow nation. He felt a wave of shock crash over him as his gaze focused on the brunette.

He saw Italy, but there was also an imprint of a small girl in a green dress. He felt another wave of dizziness and pain pass through him and closed his eyes again, burying his head in his hands.

He felt like a war was being waged in his head. Memories clashed and mingled in his head.

After what felt like a century, he felt a sudden clarity. Everything settled in place, and he remembered everything. Opening his eyes, his gaze met Italy's once again.

He froze from the shock of his sudden realization."Italy… I… How did I… forget…?

The other nation froze, staring down at his friend. "No way… It couldn't be… Could it?"

Germany tilted his head to the side slightly. "Italy?"

The Italian gulped. "Ho–Holy… Rome?"

Germany swallowed and gave a weak smile. "Yeah. Sorry for taking so long."

Tears gathered in Italy's eyes. "Holy Rome!" He threw his arms around the blond's neck, and buried his head in the blond's shoulder.

Germany rubbed soothing circles in the smaller nation's back. "I'm back, I'm home." He murmured soothingly.

"You're never allowed to leave me again! I'm coming with you, next time!"

Germany sighed. "Hopefully there won't be a next time."

Italy sniffled softly. "Hopefully. But from now on I'm coming with you."

"Alright. You already do, anyway." The German chuckled.

Italy looked up at him, wiping the tears away. Suddenly a mischievous spark appeared in his eyes, and he leaned forward and kissed the taller nation. Germany was caught by surprise, then smiled and leaned into it.

He could get used to this.

**. . . . .**

**Cliché ending is cliché.**

**So what do you guys think so far? Good? Bad?**

**If you don't like it or you see something that needs fixing, don't be afraid to mention it.**

**But–Don't be rude about it. If you don't like it, give a reason. Don't flame for the heck of it. At least give a reason. If not for me, then at least for the other readers. It's annoying to read flames in the comments for those of us who actually like the story.**

**So be nice. 'Kay?**


	2. Chapter 2: Intelligent Italy

_So here's chapter two. _

_Head-canon: Dark!Italy. Although now that I think about it, maybe intelligent!Italy would be more accurate. I believe that Italy isn't as innocent or naïve as everyone thinks. I mean, he _did_ beat Turkey. And, at one time, the Venitians (And thus he, Veneziano) were an Empire with complete control over the Mediterranean. Without further ado, chapter two of Hetalian Headcanons!_

_Oh wait, this chapter has the same setting as the last one, but it is a completely different story. Imagine that the whole Germany/HRE never happened._

_Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia is wouldn't be nearly as awesome as it is._

**Head-canon 2: Dark!Italy**

**. . . . .**

It was all Japan's fault. It really was. If only he hadn't found _that_ box.

Veneziano hadn't shown up at training, so Germany and Japan had gone looking for him. They found him trying to clean his attic and offered to help.

Veneziano was humming as he sorted through some of his old paintings when he heard Japan call his name.

"Italy?"

He glanced behind him and chirped, "Si?"

Japan was looking down at a box with red tape on the top. "What is in this box?"

Germany walked over and looked at it over Japan's shoulder. "Why does it have red tape?"

Veneziano tilted his head in thought. "That's…"

The other two glanced at each other and shrugged. Typical Italy.

Japan unsheathed his katana and slit open the tape. Veneziano's's eyes widened in realization.

_The flash of silver and the red that covered everything. The silver cutting through the red, reaching for the next victim–_

"No don't open–"

It was too late. The Italian half-stood there, his arm outstretched to stop them from finding out his secret.

They both stared down into the box in confusion. Germany looked up at the horrified nation.

"Italy… What is this?"

Japan was frowning down at the box, before reaching in and pulling out a throwing knife. The handle was black leather, and the blade was silver. "It's well balanced. Where did you get this from?"

Germany looked back into the box and pulled out a picture. "This is you and… isn't that 'Lucky Luciano'? The one America was talking about?"

"And this uniform. Isn't this from the Italian mafia?"

Germany's eyes widened. "That's right. It is. Italy… What…?"

Veneziano gulped before giving them a weak smile. "Yeah. That's right; that is from the Italian mafia. And that is Lucky Luciano. We… were friends."

Japan tilted his head. "Friends?"

The Northern Italian bit his lip, then sighed and straightened, lowering his hand. "I'm not… I've had business arrangements with the mafia before. Politicians that needed to be bribed, or supplies that needed to be moved." He glanced away from them. "But that's it. Lucky and I met and were drinking friends."

He shifted, looking concerned and uncomfortable. Japan watched him with an unreadable expression, while Germany frowned. "I think you're lying, Italy."

Both Europeans glanced at the Asian. "Wha- why do you say that?" Veneziano looked suddenly upset.

Japan tilted his head. "You won't look at us, and you're nervous. Not the kind of nervous that you're afraid we won't accept it, the kind of nervous that we'll see through the lie."

Veneziano felt fear and panic rising up, and hid it the best way he knew how. He crushed it, pushing it as far back as he could, and threw up a mask to compensate. He felt his face turn blank, slipped into a personality he hadn't shown in decades. He tilted his head a small smile appearing on his face. "Is that so? Well," He chuckled. "You aren't wrong. You're quite right, in fact."

He channeled Luciano* as much as he could to make this work, to buy himself time to figure out what to do. "I'm not nearly the idiot you've all come to know. Few know of this side of me, and fewer still actually remember. Just ask Turkey. I'm one of the strongest nations, with and accuracy of ten out of ten, and the speed and ability to avoid the bullets of an entire squad at once. Luciano and I were, in fact, drinking buddies. We were also business parters for a while, until he left. And I've had more than a few 'arrangments' with the mafia. Though _fratello_ has more interaction with them than I do."

Germany stared at him, his brow furrowed. "But… Why? Why act…?"

Veneziano raised a brow. "Why act like a useless airhead? Because it was safer. If no one knew I was strong enough to be a threat… They wouldn't specifically target me in a fatal way. I was captured, but I wasn't enough of a threat to take precautions against. It was safer that way." He shrugged, appearing nonchalant. He was fighting all of his emotions to stay back for now, let his mind deal with this. They kept attempting to rise up, panic doing its best to set in and make his voice tremor, anything to break his cold mask. He refused to let it. He was out of practice… But not that out of practice. "Can you really blame me, after what happened to most all of the ancient nations? And, more recently, the Holy Roman Empire?" _Don't crack, don't crack, no emotion! Do not-_ He had to get out of here, to escape. He was too close to breaking down, too close to losing his mask, too close to suffocating.

Japan was considering his words, looking thoughtful. Germany was frowning, confusion coloring his thoughts and face as he sorted through the new information.

Glancing at Germany, Veneziano used his confusion to make a quick suggestion. "Why don't we take a break for a little while?"

They both looked at him for a moment, before slowly nodding. "That's probably a good idea," Japan agreed.

Veneziano immediately took the opprotunity to escape. He turned and leapt out of the attic, breath speeding up as he ran.

They other two looked after him for a moment, before turning to each other with a sigh.

Veneziano raced down the stairs, taking two at a time. He slid to a stop in the kitchen, pulling out a glass and filling it with water. After he had gulped it all down, he set the glass on the counter next to the sink, careful not to drop it with his shaking hands, and pulled out his cell phone. He hit speed dial and raised it to his ear. He could feel his mask breaking, and struggled to pull it back together.

"Ciao, what do you want?"

Veneziano said two words that explained quite a bit to the person on the other end. "They know."

"Who's they? And how did they find out?"

"Germany and Japan. They were helping me clean my attic and they found _that_ box."

"Do we need to take care of them?"

"No, I don't think that will be necessary. Not right now at least."

"…Do you want me to come over?"

"…No. I'll be okay."

"You sure?"

"..."

"Veneziano?"

"…_Si_. I'll be fine."

"If you say so. Let me know if you change your mind. Ciao."

"…Ciao, fratello."

Veneziano sighed as he hung up, feeling a headache start and panic begin to creep back up. He decided to get some medicine from the bathroom, rubbing his temples as he did so.

Putting the medicine back in its cabinet, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. Amber eyes, eyes that had seen too much blood. And suddenly it hit and his mask shattered. They knew.

_They knew_.

_They know your secret. They know who you truly are. How could you possibly be safe? They probably hate you now._

The voice which was his own mind caused him to stumble back, falling against the wall. He slid down, tears gathering in his eyes and his breath speeding up as the panic he'd been repressing finally set in.

"They hate me, they know and they hate me! They know… they _know_." He started shaking as the fear and shock he'd been pushing back rushed forward all at once and became overwhelming.

They knew, and if they knew… then he was no longer safe.

"They know, and if they know then they'll kill me!"

He couldn't breathe, the air wouldn't enter his lungs. He gasped, trying to breathe, but unable to do so. He curled forward on himself, into a ball as his body trembled uncontrollably. He felt detached, knowing that he was having a panic attack but unable to do anything about it. He switched between detached and _too much there and they'regoingtokillmewhywouldtheynot_-

He didn't even notice the sudden hurrying of footsteps or partially-open door swinging all the way open or the two people that entered.

Germany immediately knelt down next to the panicking nation. "Italy!" He heard the other muttering something but couldn't make it out. He leaned closer and stiffened at what he heard.

"They know, they know, they hate me and they're going to kill me–"

"Italy! Calm down!" He grasped the brunette's shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. "Calm down. Breathe. Close your eyes and just breathe. Stop panicking."

Slowly, oh so very slowly, the other calmed under his continuous quiet instructions.

Japan stood by, watching quietly. He wasn't much help for this, and would wait until he was.

Veneziano gulped, finally able to breathe again. He became aware of (warmstrong) arms around him and a (familiarandkind) deep voice murmuring in his ear. A shudder ran through the Italian's body and wrapped his arms around the fit body, burying his head in the German's shoulder. His mask was gone, and he didn't know how to put it back. _I'm too out of practice, I shouldn't have gotten so relaxed_-

Germany started in surprise at the sudden action, but hugged the other slightly closer in response, relieved that he was a bit more relaxed, at least.

"We don't hate you, and we certainly won't kill you." Veneziano pulled back and looked at him, eyes wide open and a deep-rooted fear in them. He was exposed, his mask was gone they would see him andhowcouldtheynottakethechancetogetridofhimnow-. His breath hitched and he forced himself to calm down, began attampting to push his emotions _back in the box they belonged in_. They… didn't cooperate.

His voice trembled as he asked. "You… don't hate me? But… Why-?"

Germany shook his head, squeezing his friend's shoulder in reassurance. "_Nein_. I can understand, even if I wish that you hadn't kept this kind of secret from us. And that you had been a _bit_ more help in certain situations..."

He winced. "I was just- I just-"

"We understand, Italia."

They both looked over to Japan as he spoke.

"You were afraid. Stronger countries get targeted, so you pretended to be weak and did what you could in order to keep yourself safe."

"Oh… _Si_. Am I so easy for you to read?"

Japan shook his head. "Simply educated guessing."

Veneziano sent him a weak smirk. "Well, you aren't wrong."

Germany sighed. "I have a feeling I'm going to get used to that phrase." He muttered before standing up, holding out a hand to Italy. "Break is almost over, we should get back to cleaning or it will never get done.

Veneziano smiled, wiping his eyes. _So… nothing's going to change, much? That's… Really nice to hear. Maybe… this won't be so bad._ "_Si_!"

Germany was quiet until they reached the stairs. Then he sent a mild glare toward his Italian friend.

"And was it really necessary to tell the allies what you did when they captured us that one time?"

"Would you rather I have told them battle plans and movements?"

"Yes. I really would have."

"I'll keep that in mind for next time."

**. . . . .**

_So what did you think? _

_After a complete revision, I'm finally happy with this. I was terrible when I first wrote this. Also-_

_*When I said Luciano here, I meant 2p!Italy, not Lucky. See chapter 6 part 1 and 2 for the explanation of this._

_On a different note, I was listening to darktalia amvs on YouTube for the first part, then various multilingual songs that Hetalia fans have made. Go look up Once Upon A December in multilingual. The one made by Flamsparks is amazing._

_So what did you think? Leave a review~!_


	3. Chapter 3: Luciano's Abandonment

**Yes, I did this. I actually really like the 2ps. Here is head-canon number three.**

**Head-canon: Luciano (2p!Italy) has abandonment issues. His worst fear is that his allies will leave him alone again.**

**Head-canon 3: Abandonment**

**. . . . .**

Luciano paced, thoughts racing. He'd just gotten information that the Allies were forming up against him. He was already forming strategies to use against them, trying to predict all of the moves they might make.

"You look worried."

Luciano glanced over at his blond ally. "Not worried. I'm just thinking of the best way to beat them."

Lutz raised a brow. "It won't be easy with just you."

Luciano froze, then whipped around to stare at him. "What do you mean, 'just me'?" His magenta eyes were narrowed.

Lutz, for once, met his furious gaze calmly. "I mean that I'm done. Kuro is as well. The last war took too much out of both of us. We've already discussed it. Austria and Hungary have both declared themselves neutral in future conflicts, so you're on your own."

Luciano stared at him, a sudden feeling of numbness all over. "You… You're leaving?"

Lutz crossed his arms. "That's what I said."

"Why?!" The Italian's voice cracked, despite his best efforts to keep it steady.

The German nation's voice was cold. "I told you why. On top of that, you're selfish, cruel, and don't know or care about other people's limits."

"But–"

"_Nein_. We are no longer allies, _Italy._"

"Lutz…" Luciano whispered, panic beginning to rise up. This wan't happening. It couldn't be happeneing. It wasn't real, he wouldn't leave. _He promised_.

"Don't call me that. My name, to you, is Germany." And with that statement, the blond turned and walked out of the room.

"No! You promised! Wait! Don't go! Don't…" Luciano fell to his hands and knees, tears welling in his eyes and sliding down his face to fall to the floor as his breath sped up in terror. "Please… Please don't go. Don't leave me all alone again. I don't want to be alone anymore… You promised… You promised not to leave my side…"

Luciano sat up with a gasp, tears standing in his eyes. His breath came in panicked pants as he glanced around, then sagged in relief. "Just a nightmare," He sighed, running his hand through his hair and focusing on calming his breathing.

The brunette shivered, feeling suddenly cold. "Lutz…" He murmured. He knew it was just a nightmare, but… it wouldn't hurt to check, right?

He slipped out of his room, moving with the silent grace of the assassin he was. Once he reached room of his German ally, he hesitated for a moment. Then he shook himself and quietly opened the door. The blond was there, lying asleep on his side. The Italian let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Luciano felt a sudden irrational compulsion, and didn't hesitate to follow it. His movements were completely silent as he ghosted to the bed and slipped under the covers.

Lutz didn't even stir as Luciano curled up next to him and fell asleep.

Once sure the small Italian was asleep, Lutz opened his eyes.

_Must have had another nightmare._ He mused, unsurprised. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence. Luciano had nightmare problems, though he never shared them. He didn't have to, Lutz knew from the few times he'd caught him muttering and whimpering in his sleep what they were about.

He gave a tired sigh and wrapped an arm around the smaller nation, pulling him close.

"_Guten nacht, _Luciano. And don't worry, I don't break my promises."

**. . . . .**

**Writing this in science because I have nothing better to do.**

**So what did you think of this? A little 2p!Gerita fluff for you all. Why? Because they're adorable.**

**Yes, I believe this. For those of you who watch Kyokoon64 on YouTube (If you don't then go check her out, she's an amazing person. And Dignified, her sometimes play though partner, is too. She does some hilarious Hetagame Let's Plays.) I know about her Siegfried (Misspelled, probably) head-canon.**

**My Lutz is like a cross between the normal head-canon Lutz people have, and Siegfried. He's sort of puppy-like when it comes to affection from Luciano, trying to get what he can, but my Luciano isn't the type of person to be abusive. My Lutz, like Siegfried, is very much a geek. So is Luciano, actually.**

**Those two are completely canon, in my head. 2p!Gerita and normal Gerita.**

**To Marzue: I now have a new head-canon thanks to you. Yes, I'll take suggestions and if I think them over and like them, they'll probably end up on here. The British accent part killed me! XD**

**So leave me a review telling me what you think! Remember, reviews are love~!**


	4. Chapter 4: America's accents

_So, this is for Marzue, who gave me this new head-canon._

_Head-canon: Since there are so many different languages spoken in America, and the only 'official' one is English (__**I just started reading the manga and it said that English was our official language**__) America sometimes starts speaking in other languages or heavy accents without realizing it. And he'll keep doing it until it's sorted out. Or he'll start speaking in a British accent, much too his embarrassment._

_Oh, I'm going to have __**fun**__ with that last part. Hehehe._

_America: Uh oh… She's going to torture me, isn't she?_

_Me: Yep! England's going to be very smug before this is over~!_

**Head-canon 4: America's language**

America was talking to France. That wasn't unusual. Neither was the fact that France was indiscreetly flirting with him.

What was unusual, however, was the fact that they were conversing in French. _America_ was conversing in French. France seemed slightly confused, but went with it.

"So… Why exactly is America talking in French? And since when does he know French?" Spain was staring at the golden-blond nation.

England shook his head. "I have no idea."

The meeting continued, and soon England noticed America conversing with Prussia–in German.

"What the…"

"Angleterre? What's wrong?"

"French I can sort of understand, but since when does _America_ know _German_?"

"What… _Mon dieu_! Since when…"

"I have no bloody clue."

"Ve~! Ciao, America!"

"Ciao Italy!" America continued to carry on a conversation with the nation… in Italian

By now all of the gathered nations were staring at America, nonplussed.

"I'm so confused…" China muttered.

"I want to test something." Norway walked over to America, cutting into the conversation with sudden Norse.

America looked at him in surprise, before replying to him in Norse. They talked for several minutes, before Norway switched to English. "So how long have you known Norse?"

The blue-eyed blond looked startled. "What are you talking about? I don't know any."

"America, the entire time you've been talking to me has been in Norse."

"What?"

"He's right," England cut in. "First, you were talking to France in French, the as soon as you started to talk to Prussia you went to German, Italy started talking to you in Italian and you responded, in Italian. And as soon as Norway started speaking to you, you switched to Norse."

"What? Zhat's not–" America cut off suddenly, looking confused.

"Was zhat…?" France stared at him. "Why do you have a French accent? A zhick one at zhat."

"I have no idea. What the herr!"

Japan tilted his head in surprise. "I haven't even said anything yet, so he shouldn't have switched to my accent."

Germany shook his head. "I'm not sure."

"Vell make it stop!" America groaned and buried his head in his hands.

"It's most likely because of all the different ethnicities in America. A lot of people from all over the world live there, so it's affecting him. And considering the Olympics are being held in America this year, it's probably mixing up his accents."

Prussia glanced at the blond speaking. "Has it ever happened to you?"

Canada shrugged. "Once or twice. It's happened to him before too, just no one noticed. Himself included." He turned to his brother. "Focus on just your citizens. Ignore other ethnicities."

America closed his eyes and focused. "Uh… is it working?"

"Yes, you're back to normal." France was fighting back a grin.

"Alright! On with the meeting then!"

**. . .**

"And that concludes our meeting."

"Alright, food! Coming, England?"

"Oh, alright. Might as well."

They walked together out of the building. "That was weird, earlier."

"It was rather strange, yes."

"Ah, Ken's!"

England shook his head and resigned himself to eating American food.

"Welcome to Ken's Steakhouse, if you'll follow me."

They were seated and given menus. After ordering drinks, water for England and Coca Cola for America, the decided what to order. England went first, then it was America's turn.

The waitress looked surprised and England had to cough in order to hide his laugh. As soon as she walked away, England started snickering.

America stared at him. "What's so funny?"

"You're doing it again."

"Doing wha–Oh, come on! What accent?"

"Try listening to yourself."

"Why can't you just–No. No, no, no!"

England just laughed. "Apparently, my accent has rubbed off on you."

"Really?!"

They walked back to the hotel, America saying that it was so that England wouldn't get lost. He had tried, several times, during dinner to get his accent back to normal, but it didn't work.

They walked into the hotel lobby, where most of the countries were gathered, chatting. A few glanced up at them as they entered.

"Ah, bonjour Angleterre, Amerique!"

"Hello everyone!" America greeted everyone, then slapped his hand over his mouth, looking horrified.

Now he had everyone's attention. "America did you just…" Finland began.

America started backing up. "Well, I'm tired so I'm going to bed. Night everybody!" And he turned and fled.

England just laughed.

_There you go Marzue~! Hope you enjoyed!_

_America:… Why are you so mean?!_

_England: I rather enjoyed it._

_America: Well of course, _you_ did. So mean…_

_Ah, funny. I have no idea what year this is in, so the Olympics things was just an excuse. I have no idea where it's going to be next._

_So, can you guess what 'music' I was listening to while writing this?_

_Nyan cat. As of now, forty-seven minutes of it. Why? Because I was watching sad Hetalia videos all around YouTube before writing this, and I needed something happy and continuous._

_I don't know why people say it's annoying, it's really not…_

_So, I'm almost failing math and my electronic privileges have been taken away, so updates are going to slow considerably… I'm sorry!_

_I suck at math…_

_So, reviews are love and happiness!_

_Ciao~!_


	5. Chapter 5: Florida

_Hey everyone! I'm writing this in science, after I've finished my work. It's the only time I have access to a computer… So here's a head-canon that kind of bothers me. The first part, I mean. I'm not really sure why… Maybe because I live here? I don't know, it just annoys me. First appearance of an Oc: Florida!_

**Head-canon 5: Florida**

Florida fumed, her arms crossed as she glared out of the window. All the other states were constantly teasing her about the shape of her land, and saying that Florida was America's you-know-what.

It pissed her off because it made no sense! Shape had nothing to do with anatomical position!

New York wasn't shaped like a brain, but it was his brain. Washington D.C wasn't shaped like a heart, but it was his heart. Although she had to admit, Nantucket did look like a cowlick… But what about Texas?! Did Texas look like a pair of glasses?! No! So what did shape have to do with anything?!

"Absolutely nothing."

"Thank you!" The Sunshine State turned to the country occupying her territory.

America smiled at her, stepping forward to hug her. "Just ignore them. They only do it to rile you up."

She pouted. "It still pisses me off. It's stupid that I'm the only state who's judged based on my shape."

The blond chuckled. "They're jealous of your amazing weather."

She gave him a disbelieving look. "During spring and hurricane season?"

America grinned. "And your dazzling good looks."

Florida snorted. "I'm a cross between France and Spain." And she was. She had olive skin, not as tan as Spain or as pale as France, hair a light brown, not as dark as Spain's or blonde, like France. Her eyes changed depending on her mood and the weather (Though the two often coincided). They could go from a deep blue, to a medium gray, to a sparkling green almost the same shade as Spain's

"And thus, very pretty." America agreed easily. "All of their good, none of their bad."

"Right," she laughed.

America slung an arm over her shoulder. "Don't let them bother you. Now, what were you saying about that restaurant you wanted to show me?"

**. . .**

"Hola hermosa! Cómo estás hoy?" (**Hello pretty girl! How are you today?)**

"Meh."

"Muy Mal?" (**Very bad?**)

Florida smiled and shook her head at the cheerful Spaniard. "No. Just not exactly as bright as my name suggests."

Her former territory holder frowned. "What's wrong, chica?"

She sighed. "Nothing much. Just some teasing from the other states."

"About your shape?"

"Si…"

Spain frowned, immediately jumping forward and scooping her into a hug. "Ignore them. They're idiots."

She giggled. "America said the same thing."

"Well for once he's right."

"Hey, be nice. He's not that bad."

"Si, si."

She snorted at his disbelieving tone. "Anyway, I was about to head down to the beach. Wanna come?"

"Definitely!"

**. . .**

"Bonjour mon belle!"

Florida turned to look at the blond with an exasperated roll of her eyes. "Hello France. And I'm not _your_ beauty. Or _a_ beauty, period."

"Non, zhat's not true! You are a great beauty!" France looked scandalized.

The brunette snorted. "Whatever. How have you been?"

He beamed at her. "Magnifique! Et vous?" (**Magnificent! And you?**)

She shrugged. "Fine. Nothing unusual. Some teasing from the other states, but that's about it."

The Frenchman frowned. "And zhat put you in a bad mood."

Florida shrugged. "Yeah, some. But I've been cheered up via America and Spain, so I'm better."

His face softened. "Good. I'm glad you feel better. Come, I heard zhere was an ice cream shop nearby. I'll buy you somezhing."

"Alright!"

… _I'm not happy with this. Then again, I don't have many head-canons concerning the states, so…_

_Plus, I'm sneaking around writing and publishing this for you guys. I was failing math, and I'm on restriction until who knows how long. So, slow updates._

_I'm going to be standing out in the cruel heat tomorrow for two hours in full marching uniform for the ROTC inspection. Ah, the joys of being in band. Marching season is over and we're still marching for people… and my section leader pisses me off. She has a very 'high and mighty I'm better than everyone else' attitude. She's constantly harping on us about the smallest things, and when we have a problem, outside of band mind you, she _forces_ us to tell her. Even if we don't want to. And if we're having a bad day, or are frustrated, and change our voice at all, she's like "Don't snap at me" in a not very nice voice._

_Pisses. Me. Off. She's part of the reason I'm quitting next year. Only part though, I need Drama more for my future than I need band, and trying to do both will be too stressful. I'm hoping to be a voice-actress/actress/video game designer/animator. The first three are side jobs unless I can get a really good paying job for them. Hehe, we'll see._

_Sorry for the rant, I doubt you really care. I just needed to vent. Just… urk._

_So, remember, reviews are love~! Have a good day, mon chers!_

_Ciao for now~!_


	6. Chapter 6:Meeting the Axis 2ps

**Ciao everyone! It's been a while, huh? I'm sorry…**

**Anyway, I'm going to start thanking my reviewers from now on, because you all deserve recognition. If I have a guest review, I'll respond to your review in detail. Otherwise, I'll PM you in detail and mention you on here.**

**So thank you: CrazyHetaPotterLock, I'm yo' senpai baby, Marzue (You leave such wonderful reviews, my dear), Abc, and Superwholockingers.**

**Marzue: Thank you so much for your reviews! I'm so glad you enjoy my story, and that I'm keeping you entertained. (1)Yes… poor Florida… We'll be the first state to sink when the ocean rises, too. Stupid global warming… (2)But yay! Spain, France and America are actually really good at making people feel better. Though there have been tensions between Spain and Florida, he wasn't very nice to us. (3)Would those be his hands? I dunno. I haven't taken geography yet so I don't actually know where either of them are… *Bows head in shame* I can't name the 50 states either. I'm such a bad patriot. (4)And I'm moving an hour and a half southeast, so I won't have to deal with her anymore.**

**Also, I'll only use a word in another language if they are speaking English. For example:**

**Italian: Alright brother, I'm on my way.**

**English: Alright fratello, I'm on my way.**

**As for the headcanon: I believe that most of the 1ps have met their 2ps at least once; just most of them didn't realize who they were talking to. With a couple of exceptions~!**

**Now without further ado–Headcanon six!**

**Headcanon 6: Meeting the 2ps, Part 1: Axis Powers**

**. . . . .**

_Italy:_

_1861, Italian unification_

Veneziano Italy raced through the trees, his breath coming in pants as he glanced behind him every now and then.

_Have to hurry. They can't–can't catch me if I hurry._

He stumbled, throwing his hand out to catch himself. His sides hurt from running so much, his teenage body unused to competing with adults.

Shouts came from behind the brunette, reminding him that he couldn't rest for long.

"This way! Come on, hurry!"

The personification whimpered, wondering if maybe he should have stayed with Mr. Austria and Miss Hungary rather than becoming completely independent. And now, there were people who didn't agree with the unification of the North and South, so he and his brother were both targets.

He spun around and took a step forward, before realizing there was a tree right in front of him. Veneziano threw out his hands to stop himself, gasping when they sank into the tree. He jerked them back, staring at them.

The shouts of the men behind him brought the nation back to reality. With only slight hesitation, he plunged forward into the tree.

Veneziano stumbled out of the other side, glancing around at the forest similar to the one he had just left. The first thing he noticed was the silence. Wherever he was, the men chasing him were gone.

The second thing he noticed was the sky. What was visible of it was red, almost the same color of blood. Most of it was overcast by dark clouds, however.

Gulping, Veneciano started thinking about going back. Maybe he had a better chance with those men than he did in this strange world. But then again… maybe this world wouldn't be so bad?

_Positive, think positive._ Veneziano tried to convince himself. It didn't work very well.

Willing a white flag into his hands,** (A head-canon for another time dears.)** he planted it into the ground so he would know what tree it was. Hopefully, nothing would move it.

Veneziano took a deep breath and started walking. The forest was quiet, almost eerily so. The brunette gulped and clenched his hands, pulling them to his chest and glancing around nervously.

A quiet sound made him whip around, his breath catching and his heart speeding up. He whimpered quietly.

"Wh-Who's there?!"

"Hm? Who are _you_?"

Veneziano stared at the teenager who had just emerged from the bushes across from him. He looked almost identical to the nation, but with magenta eyes and darker hair, as well as a black jacket with purple outlines and dark breeches rather than a red shirt and beige breeches, though both wore brown boots.

"I-I-I'm Veneziano Italy."

The stranger tilted his head. "I see… So that's who you are. You're my 1p."

Italy frowned in confusion. "1p?"

The boy shook his head. "Just as I'm your 2p. But this isn't an ideal setting for this conversation. Follow me; we'll go somewhere more comfortable."

The auburn haired Italian hesitated for a moment before following his apparent '2p'. Hurrying to catch up to his look-alike, he glanced around.

The trees' bark was pitch black, and the leaves were a dark, dark green.

As they emerged from the trees, Italy glanced at the sky. Without the trees, the red sky was more prominent and the black clouds obvious, hiding the moon or sun, whichever it was in this world. The grass here was a dark green, though lighter than the trees. The various rocks scattered around were an onyx black.

In the distance, though getting closer, a large wall was standing proud. It seemed to be made of the same rock he had seen so far, and the gate made of the same wood.

As they stopped underneath it, Veneziano craned his head up to try to see the top. At a rough estimate, it seemed the normal 30 feet **(About ten meters for you Europeans.)***. His look-alike led him through the gates and into the courtyard beyond.

The 1p stopped, stunned. It was beautiful, looking like a garden. There were flowers of every color everywhere, with grey-stoned paths leading between them. In the center, there was a fountain spilling–

"What is _that_?"

The 2p glanced at him with amusement. "It's water."

"But it's _red_!"

"Different world, different rules. You really shouldn't be so surprised after the forest and the sky."

"Well, yes but…"

The other boy snorted. "1ps, I swear. Come on."

Veneziano followed him into the castle, (Made of the same type of rock and wood as the walls) and immediately started looking around.

There were large windows overlooking more flowers, and more water running along the outside. The carpet running down the middle of the hallway was a deep purple, as were the drapes. There were many beautiful paintings and tapestries hanging on the wall, and small tables held flowers in gold vases.

Soon, they reached a door that the 2p stopped at. He opened it and waved the other in.

Veneziano was greeted with more purple carpet and drapes, but there were also couches with a black fabric. The low table in the middle was made of more dark wood, as was the wood in the fireplace. The table had two pitchers, one gold and one silver.

"I should introduce myself properly. I am Veneziano Italy of the 2p world. Or, more commonly, Luciano Vargas."

Luciano waved him to one of the couches, before sitting across from him. Veneziano frowned in confusion, sitting down. "2p world?"

"Wait a moment; I don't want to have to explain twice."

He opened his mouth to ask what he meant when the door flew open.

"Brother darling! I found a 1p~!"

"Yes, Flavio. I know. I found my own."

A blond boy flounced in, followed by a very familiar brown haired boy.

"Romano!"

"Veneziano?"

"Aww, I thought I would be the first!"

"Shut up Flavio."

"Mean~!"

"I'll show you mean if you don't shut up and sit down."

"Sitting and shutting."

"Good. You can sit down, you know."

Romano Italy narrowed his eyes at the other pair of brothers. "Just who are you two?"

Luciano rolled his eyes. "If you sit down then I'll tell you."

"Brother, please. We're in their world, we can't really refuse." Veneziano hissed.

Romano frowned. "Fine." Before plopping down next to him.

"Right, as I told… What are your human names? We're technically the same people, so country names would get confusing."

Both of the 1ps exchanged a glance. "I guess… I'm Feliciano Vargas."

His darker haired brother snorted. "Lovino Vargas."

Luciano nodded. "Right. I'm Luciano Vargas, 2p North Italy."

"And I'm Flavio Vargas! 2p South Italy!"

"What is–"

"–a 2p?" Luciano finished Feliciano's question.

The auburn haired boy nodded.

"A 2p is like a version of a 1p. Our world is like a mirror of yours. Exactly the same, but backward. Same people, almost opposite personalities. There are multiple 'gates' throughout the worlds that allow you to go between them, and a few can make them. No one's sure exactly how it happened, or why we know about you, but you usually don't know about us. We don't even know how it works. We're the same sex, but usually quite a bit difference in personality. Although, it varies from person to person. Just as appearances. Obviously." Luciano shrugged, gesturing to himself and his brother.

"So… You two are a version of me and Brother?"

"Yep~!" Flavio chirped.

Lovino stared at him. "That's horrifying."

"Aww~! Mean!"

Lovino's eye twitched. "That thing is my 2p?"

"Yes, I know. It is a bit…" Luciano trailed off.

"Disgusting?" Lovino suggested.

"Hey!"

"Don't be mean brother!"

"That sounds about right."

"Brother!"

"Ve~! That's not nice Luciano!"

Both of the 2ps paused and looked at him. "Ve?"

Lovino snickered. "It's his verbal tic."

"Well you have one too!" Feliciano's hand lashed out and grabbed his curl.

"Chigi!"

The other three broke down into laughter and Lovino's face turned red

**. . .**

_Germany:_

_May 7, 1945 - Unconditional surrender of all German forces to Allies._

It was over for him. He had lost the war, and Hitler was dead. He should be feeling angry, upset. But he didn't. All Germany felt was…

…relief.

It was over. That monster that had been killing his people simply because of their differences. How many German Jews had he killed? How many innocent people, both in Germany and in other countries?

He sighed, staring over the ruins of Berlin. He was sitting on a broken wall, high over the street.

"Not a very pretty sight, is it?"

He tensed at the sudden voice, turning his head slightly. There was a tall man standing on the wall next to him. He had the same body shape as him, but the clothes were different and his face was shadowed by a hat. One of his arms had three long scars, though they looked fairly recent.

"No. It's not. But we'll rebuild. We'll remake the buildings, bring more people. In fifty years, it will be like it never happened."

The man snorted. "Maybe. But only if that wall is gone." He jerked his thumb at the Berlin wall in the distance.

"I suppose… although…" _If it falls… Will Prussia be okay?_

"Hmph. I suppose it's a worry. But he's tough. He'll be fine."

Germany blinked in surprise, glancing at the stranger. "Did I say that out loud?"

"Yeah. Anyway, I'd better go. I have someone I have to meet. And Luciano doesn't take kindly to being forced to wait."

"Wait!"

"Hmm?" He turned to glance back at the blond nation.

"Who… are you?"

His lips quirked up in a smile and he pushed his hat up slightly, allowing Germany to see his face. It was similar to his own, almost identical actually, but with a scar on his left cheek and with purple eyes. "I'm Lutz. No one important. Not here."

And with that, he turned and dropped from the wall, leaving Germany with his thoughts.

**. . .**

_Japan_

_August 6, 1945 - First atomic bomb dropped, on Hiroshima, Japan._

Japan was in Tokyo, in a meeting with his leaders. Well, he had just finished one such meeting. America was demanding their surrender, and they were threatening with nuclear bombs if they didn't. Still, his leaders were sure that it was a bluff. He wasn't so sure.

He didn't agree with the decision of Pearl Harbor to begin with. While yes, there were rumors of America preparing to enter the war, they were just that, rumors. Perhaps he would have perhaps not. They gave him a solid reason to enter the war, and the damage caused by the preemptive strike was worthless when compared to the damage the American forces had caused so far. And if America wasn't bluffing about the bombs…

"… It could mean the end of us."

"Shame your bosses never listen to you. So many things could be avoided if countries bosses just listened to them sometimes."

Japan jerked in surprise, turning quickly to see the intruder. He froze in surprise, confusion overtaking him.

Leaning against the wall was someone who looked almost identical to him. Same face, different colors. His eyes were red, like that of a _kitsune_ or an _akuma_. His uniform was the same style as Japan's own formal one, but was a black background color instead of white. He also had a purple cape attached to his back.

"You are…"

"Kuro."

"What are you?"

"What do you think?"

"…"

"…"

"… I'm not sure. Perhaps… A darker version of me? My darker thoughts?"

"Hmm, I suppose that is one way to view it."

"Why are you here?"

Kuro tilted his head thoughtfully, though his face remained completely blank. "I suppose… because I had nothing better to do. I was bored and curious about what you were doing. Now I know. You're trying to get yourself killed. Or at least, your bosses are."

Japan frowned. "That is rather rude."

"I never pretended otherwise." He pushed away from the wall and walked to the door, pausing before leaving. "By the way… Good Luck. You'll need it."

Japan stared after him for a moment before hearing his cell phone ring*. He picked it up.

"Japan! Oh god, Japan! I tried to stop them, I swear! But they wouldn't listen!"

"Wha–Who?"

"My bosses! They released the bomb and– Japan you have to evacuate Hiroshima!"

"America-san?!"

On the other side of the wall, Kuro was leaning against the wall. "So he was warned. 1ps are rather amusing to watch. Their countries are enemies, but they are friends. I suppose I should leave, I gained what I wanted after all."

He walked away from the room, disappearing into a window.

**. . .**

_Prussia_

_February 25, 1947 – Formal dissolution of Prussia._

Prussia stared out over Paris. He was high on the balcony of one the many buildings. There were traces of the war everywhere, but it looked better than London or Berlin.

"I just… can't believe that it's all over. I'm… not a country anymore. Prussia is dead. Gone. And soon, I'll fade away as well."

"It was only a matter of time. You've been around longer than most, and you have a long history of military endeavors."*

He whipped around at the quiet voice. Standing there was… him. Well, sort of. He was wearing his old Teutonic Knight cloak, hood covering his head and held together with an iron cross. His face had a scar running down his right cheek, and he had blue eyes, but was the same otherwise. He was wearing a white tank top underneath and his right arm was covered by armor. His left arm rested on the hilt of a sword, and was bare except for a glove.

"Who are you?"

"I'm you."

"Clearly. Why are you here?"

"You need me."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"I am you, so I understand you. No one else does."

"… Fair enough." He turned to stare out over the city.

The other him walked over to stand next to him.

"I just… After all this time… I made the mistake of thinking I was invincible. I've survived through so many things, risen to high powers, taken over and then lost so many nations that… I thought I would be fine. I was a fallen empire, but I was still fine. But I made a miscalculation…"

"It happens. You may not fade. It's possible to change into another country. You know that better than any other. You changed from the Teutonic Knights to Prussia. And your brother…"

"… Yeah. He lost his memories though."

"But he survived."

"Yeah."

"… My time is up. Your brother is on his way. The other two of your 'bad' trio as well."

"… Alright. Thank you for listening."

The cloaked man inclined his head to the dissolved nation before walking through the balcony doors.

**. . .**

_Austria and Hungary_

_March 30, 1867 – Austria-Hungary alliance __**(Hetalian translation: Austria and Hungary's wedding)**_

It was actually a very quiet affair. Prussia came, and of course Veneziano Italy came as well. They were married and there was a dinner between the four of them. There wasn't a big fuss and lots invitations. Just a small joining with their closest friends.

After dinner, they went for a walk, just the two of them. As they walked, they noticed two shadows that seemed to be waiting for them next to a bench. They exchanged a look, then changed their direction.

As they came nearer, the shadows became clearer and they both stopped in shock. It was them. Well, sort of.

Austria was grinning, wearing a bright red jacket and black breeches and riding boots. And he was missing his glasses and mole. His hair was messy and seemed careless.

Hungary was wearing a long, long-sleeved black dress with black flats. Her hair had two small braids running back and joining in the backed mingling with the rest of her loose hair.

"Who… What?" Hungary stuttered.

The other her smiled shyly. "It's not obvious?"

The other Austria grinned. "We're you! We just came to say congratulations, and now we're off! Later!"

He grabbed the other Hungary's hand and dragged her around the tree. When Hungary ran after them, they were gone.

"Well, that was strange." Austria murmured.

"Yeah… Meh. I've seen weirder, I know Prussia after all."

As they walked away, the other two emerged from the tree.

"Oh Elizabeta, if only you knew."

"Hahaha, Roderich was so stuffy!"

"You already knew that, Raphael.

"Yeah but still! Hey, Erzebetl?"

"Yes?"

"Ready to go home?"

"Yes, I'd like that."

**. . . . .**

**So… yeah. I know, I know. I took forever, and I doubt this was worth the wait.**

**So this is part one, the Axis Powers. Next up is the Allies.**

***Europeans use the metric system, according to my teacher. It always annoys me when someone uses the metric system and doesn't translate it for us dumb Americans. I can't convert from one system to the other, I've been taught but it didn't stick. Selfish of me maybe, but whatever.**

***Okay, so I want to explain about my Prussia, Klaus. Yes, he was talking. I believe that Klaus could talk, until he was dissolved. More like, the way he was disolved. He was forcfully disolved during the war, not after. As such, his people lost their 'voice' and that came into effect for him as soon as the 2p WWII ended. Due to the method of disollution, Klaus' territory had to be absorbed into Lutz's, and he became the personification of Eastern Germany like Gilbert. And it was still the Allies who disolved him. Luciano did not. Just in case anyone has any confusion.**

***America had a laptop and was using google maps before it existed. Why can't Japan have a cell phone?**

**On a different note, I now have a Facebook! You guys don't get to find me just yet though. I still haven't outgrown my paranoia. And it uses my real name, so… yeah. Maybe later, my dears.**

**And I got an England wig! So I'll be cosplaying Punk!England. I have a black leather jacket, a Union Jack T-Shirt, black leggings, and black riding boots. I look… decent. Although the wig is annoying in its refusal to stay styled. But hey, it was twenty dollars. A full England cosplay is about 80 dollars though… Christmas present! Hear that Finland?**

**Lol, so yeah. Have a wonderful day dears~!**


	7. Chapter 6:Meeting the Allied 2ps

**Hello~! I'm back darlings~! Would you all like one of my wonderful cupcakes~?**

**Kidding, I'm an Arthur cosplayer, not an Oliver one. Not yet, at least. Maybe one day~!**

**Thanks to Marzue for reviewing!**

**Marzue: Yeah, I don't go for the 'cold emotionless/heartless killers' thing. They grew up in a darker world than the 1ps, but they're still people. The have feelings and attachments. They have layers, and they've been loved and they're been betrayed and pulled back together again. Their history has twists, and different endings than ours, but it still happened. Just my perspective. Yeah, America and England… Well, you'll see.**

**As for the headcanon: I believe that most of the 1ps have met their 2ps at least once; just most of them didn't realize who they were talking to. With a couple of exceptions~!**

**Headcanon 6: Meeting the 2ps, Part 2: Allied Powers**

**. . . . .**

_America_

_Modern Day_

America hummed, walking along the sidewalk to the nearest McDonalds. Despite what the other countries thought, though, he didn't live off of McDonalds. He was actually less than fond of it. But he was hungry and it was nearest restaurant, so fast food it was.

He stood in line ready to order, right behind another guy. The other guy had a similar jacket to himself, but in black and the zero of the 50 on the back had a line through it. The fur on the top of the jacket was a medium brown, and his hair was brown with a red tint to it. He turned his head slightly and America saw that he had red sunglasses. He was wearing black skinny jeans and black cargo boots*.

The guy glanced at him. "You ready to order?"

America nodded, glancing at his watch. "Yeah. Why?"

He shrugged. "You can go ahead of me then. I'm still deciding."

"You sure?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "No, I said it for the hell of it."

The blond flashed him a grin. "Fair enough. Uh, yeah. I'll have a number one, full meal."

He scanned his credit card, noticing the other boy shuddering as he did so. "What is it?"

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Nah, just… Meat."

America raised an eyebrow. "I'd say you're in the wrong place then."

He snorted. "I heard they had salads, and I'm hungry."

America nodded. "I get it. I wouldn't be here if I had any other option nearby. I didn't get your name, I'm Alfred F. Jones."

The boy flashed him a smirk, tsking as he did so. "Giving out your name to random strangers, for shame. I'm Allen."

After ordering and receiving their food, they claimed a table by the window. Alfred was beginning to eat when he noticed Allen frowning. "What's wrong?"

The brunette sighed. "I didn't realize it had cheese and an egg on it. Here."

"You're vegan then?"

"Oh yeah, nothing that comes from an animal."

Alfred shuddered. "I would die. I need meat in order to function. Meat and coffee."

Allen shook his head. "Just thought of it disgusts me. I've tried it before and I threw it up half an hour later."

"That sucks." The blond nation grimaced. The other shrugged.

"I'm used to it by now."

They made small talk for a while, before parting ways.

"See you, Allen!"

"Later, Alfred."

If Alfred had been paying attention, he would have noticed Allen disappear into a seemingly solid wall. But he wasn't, so he didn't

_England_

_Middle Ages_

The small nation, a child's body, raced through the trees. He was getting sick and tired of that other nation, the teenager with the big warriors on ships with axes and shields, chasing after him. What was that other magic boy called him? Denmark?* Right.

He heard sounds of pursuit fade, and slowed down, allowing a walk to quiet his racing heart. Reaching the cave system he'd found, teeming with magic, he entered.

The tiny blond nation trailed his hand along the wall as he wandered, gazing into the darkness ahead of him in thought. He paused as he reached the cave full of crystals. One of them was glowing slightly, proof of a magic connection. His hand tightened on his bow, his right hand rising to his quiver of arrows beneath his green cloak.

England moved cautiously toward it, keeping completely alert. Reaching out slowly, he rested his hand against it, only to be surprised when it sank through. He jerked his hand back as though it had been burned, leaping back a couple of steps.

The child-nation narrowed his eyes nervously. "Hmm…"

Hesitantly, he pressed his hand back to the crystal, and followed it as it sank through it.

He emerged on the other side, taking in his surroundings. The trees with the pale blue bark and red-pink leaves. He spun around, taking it all in. There were multiple crystals scattered around, of varying colors.

He became aware of frightened whimpering, sounding extremely close.

Glancing around, England pinpointed the sound. It was coming from a pink crystal a few feet to his right. Cautiously, he approached the crystal. He then realized that the sound was coming from behind the crystal.

England edged around the crystal, and came upon a boy about the same age (in appearance) as him.

The boy had blond hair with a distinct pink tint to it. Like England he had a cloak, but it was a pale blue rather than forest green. The blond had on a brown tunic and leggings with soft leather boots. The… pinkette? had on a light pink tunic and light blue leggings. The soft leather boots were white.

The pink haired boy was sniffling and sobbing.

"… Um…"

He whipped his head up, throwing himself back with arms raised to shield his face. "Don't hurt me!"

England took a step back, raising his arms defensively. "I'm not going to hurt you. I don't even know where I am."

The pinkette looked at him worriedly, then sat up straight, staring at him with bright blue eyes, pink dancing there as well.

"You're… You're my 1p!"

"Your… I'm sorry, what?" The blond blinked in confusion.

"My 1p! Arthur, right? I'm Oliver!"

England blinked. "O… kay? What is a 2p? And a 1p?"

Oliver bounced in excitement before beginning and explanation that would repeat itself in many years' time with the Italian brothers and their 2ps.

Once he finished, he left Arthur staring at him in shock.

"Okay… Okay. Just… give me a minute." He stared at one of the trees. "This explains a lot."

"Yep! You should probably go back though…" Oliver trailed off, looking a little downcast.

Arthur nodded slowly. "Yes, I should. But not until you tell me something."

Oliver looked at him in expectant curiosity. "What is it?"

"Why were you crying?"

The other looked startled, then touched. "I… Well…" Tears began gathering in his eyes.

"H-Hey! What's wrong? What did I say?!"

"N-No. Nothing. Just… No one's ever cared. I've been abandoned by anyone who's ever found me, so… to find someone who actually cares…"

"Oh… I know that feeling. So…"

Oliver took a deep breath, before flashing a beaming smile toward him. "Well, there are two different parties who are trying to take me over. There's Finland, with Sweden, Denmark, and Norway beneath him. Then there's France…"

"They're scary?"

"Yeah. Well, Finland and Sweden are. France kind of is. But… He doesn't seem so bad."

"Speak for yourself," Arthur muttered.

Oliver laughed. "You should go back. But you have to promise to visit me sometimes! And you can't forget!"

Arthur smiled at him. "Alright… I promise."

_France_

_October 16, 1793 - Marie Antoinette was convicted by the Revolutionary Tribunal of treason to the principles of the revolution, and executed by guillotine on Place de la Révolution._

France stood overlooking the crowd of people as they jostled to get a good view of the guillotine where their former queen was to be killed. He clenched his fists, pushing back tears. As a nation, he felt both sides' opinions and emotions. He understood the people's anger, but he also cared for Marie. While she was no longer that innocent girl that had come to meet him with Austria, she was still a kind girl. Yes, she had made mistakes. But it was human nature. But then again…

No. He had to keep his thoughts in check. If he didn't, he would become caught in an endless loop of who was right.

Focus on the now.

"It's rather a shame. She was such a good girl."

The nation started and turned. There was a man standing next to him that looked like–

Him. It was him. Black breeches, black riding boots, open purple doublet. His blond hair was loose, and he looked like he couldn't care less about anything.

"… Yes. She was."

"You'll get over her. You always do."

"It still hurts."

"Better her than you."

That caused France to flinch. "Why anyone?"

The other him laughed bitterly. "Because we live in a hell-bound world. It's human nature to look for someone to blame and to get rid of them. It makes them feel better about their pitiful lives. If it wasn't their fault, then it must be someone else's. And the cycle continues. It always will, until they wipe themselves out. And they will. It may take a few centuries, but they will."

The nation shook his head. "I can't believe that. Humans can, and will, learn to get along. They'll find their peace."

His double threw back his head and laughed. "You really think that? You must be an idiot to do so."

France's eyes flashed. "Love will prevail!"

"What love?!" He gestured out the window. "Love. It's just a useless concept; it doesn't really exist," he sneered.

France glared at him. "I don't believe that."

"Clearly. Let's see if you do after you watch your 'beloved' queen die." The other gestured out the window with a flourish. France followed his hand and felt his breath catch as he saw his former queen being led up the steps.

As the blade fell, he turned his head away. And saw that the other had disappeared.

_Canada_

_February 15, 1965 - New flag makes its first official appearance_

Canada smiled proudly as his new flag rose into the air. It was a first, a symbol that he was different than Britain. He may still be loyal to the Queen of England, but he was his own country. Hs own flag, his own decisions. To a degree, at least.

"It's a nice flag."

He started and turned to his right. There was a man in a Mountie uniform standing there, watching the flag wave in the wind. He had dark gold hair pulled back into a low ponytail (With the same curl as he himself had), and sunglasses covering his eyes.

The man–no, boy, he looked to be the same age in appearance as Canada– turned to him, pushing the sunglasses up. His violet eyes met Canada's own and the nation found himself unable to look away.

The other cleared his throat and glanced away, pulling his sunglasses back down. Canada quickly shook his head to clear it.

"Y-Yeah. It is. Thanks, um…" The blond nation trailed off awkwardly.

"Yeah… I'm Matt." The boy in the Mountie uniform introduced himself.

Canada sent him a small smile. "Hi, I'm Cana– err, Matthew. Matthew Williams."

_Idiot! You almost screwed up. No, scratch that, you _did_ screw up. He probably thinks you're a complete weirdo! Who changes their name in the middle of a sentence?_ Matthew scolded himself.

_Holy shite he's adorable._ Was what Matt was really thinking.

"Well, nice to meet you, Matthew."

"R-Right. Same to you, Matt."

"…"

"…"

"… How about we go and get something to eat before the awkward silence kills us?"

"… That sounds nice."

After a pleasant meal, they split up. Matthew was happy that he had been noticed, and Matt making plans to keep an eye on his adorable 1p to make sure he was okay.

He was, dare he say it, developing a slight crush on his 1p.

… Allen wouldn't–No, scratch that. No one in his family would learn of this. He would never hear the end of it if they did.

_China_

_1839–1842 - First Opium War_

China was annoyed. Not furious, not upset, annoyed. England was trying to pull one over on him, and it was causing his some frustration. And if there was a part of him that admired the European nation for the tactical idea, well, it was ignored.

He paced back and forth in his quarters. As one of the oldest nations, he would not be bested by a mere _child_.

"You could legalize and tax it. Then you would have a better chance of controlling it."

"No! I won't allow it at all! The number of addicts is rising at an alarming rate, and legalizing will only make that number rise faster, aru!"

He turned to glare at the intruder. Himself stared back.

Red eyes, hair pulled into a black cap. A red jacket with sleeves perfect for hiding things. Loose black pants.

It was an outfit that was meant for secrecy and maneuverability. An assassin.

"What's your name?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"My room."

His look-alike raised an eyebrow. He remained unmoved.

"Xiao."

"Yao Wang. Why are you here?"

"Boredom. I heard something interesting was happening over here."

"And? Why are you _here_? In my room?"

His look-alike shrugged. "No reason. Because I can." He turned. "But you're boring, so I'm leaving now."

China stared after him. "Strange. Though I've seen stranger." He brushed it off and returned to working on a solution.

_Russia_

_December 8, 1991 – Formal dissolution of the Soviet Union._

Despair. That was all Russia felt. He was watching everyone leaving him. All of them, they willingly left. He watched, Ukraine and Belarus at his side, as their bosses signed the paper. The nation pushed back tears as he watched them sign away any possible chance of his happiness.

Friends. That's all he wanted. He was tired of being alone. Tired of everyone pulling him up, then turning their backs on him as he tripped. Turning away and letting him fall.

It took all his will to hold back tears. But he did. Because he wouldn't cry. Wouldn't allow them to know just how broken he was. Just how lonely he felt. He wouldn't go through that again.

He stood in the snow, staring out over the frozen lake. "Why?" It took him a moment to realize that he was the one who allowed that word to tumble past his lips.

"Because the world isn't as kind as it should be. Because life isn't easy. You know this, Ivan."

He turned, gaze falling upon a version of himself.

Black hair, crimson eyes. The same coat as he himself was wearing, but in black and with red trim. Black pants and boots. His face was sad.

"Who…"

"Ion. Surely you didn't mistake me for General Winter?" His voice was quiet, sympathy in his eyes.

"No. I didn't. Your name doesn't tell me who you are, comrade."

"You don't need to know. In fact, it would be better if you didn't. But if you must, I'm your 2p. You must figure out what that means on your own."

Russia frowned. 2p? That would take some looking into. But for now…

"Why are you here?"

His '2p' sighed. "To remind myself of how the world works, and not to take things for granted." He turned around and walked away.

Ivan watched without a word as he vanished.

**. . . . .**

**Yeah… I didn't like this one. The axis powers are easy to write, as is the Face family. Everyone else… not so much. Urk.**

***I couldn't find any decent full-body pictures, so I made up the bottom. I can see it though.**

*** The 'other magic boy' was Norway, and I couldn't find the Old Norse word for Denmark so I just used the English word.**

**Isn't Canada adorable? Both of them~! So cute…**

**So this was a pretty quick one. You know most of their names, but I'll give you a full chart.**

_**2p Axis:**_

**Veniciano Italy: Luciano**

**Romano Italy: Flavio**

**Japan: Kuro**

**Germany: Lutz**

**And I should probably add this in here: I support the HRE theory, and think that they had another name before losing their memories. **

**1p Holy Roman Empire: Heilrich**

**2p Holy Roman Empire: Siegfried**

**Prussia: Klaus**

**Austria: Raphael**

**Hungary: Erzebet**

_**2p Allies:**_

**America: Allen/Alex (He and Matt prefer that, and Oliver switches back and forth (though he uses Allen most often). The other allies call him Alex to piss him off. Axis switches between them, depending whether they feel like taunting him or not.)**

**Canada: Matt**

**England: Oliver**

**France: Francois**

**China: Xiao**

**Russia: Ion**

**Yep. Their last names are the same as their counterparts.**

**So… Yeah. Hope you enjoyed. I'll see you all next time~!**

**Ciao for now!**


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